


Blood on the Roof

by Khoraz



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bloodplay, Gunplay, Heavy Angst, Interrogation/Torture, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Rape, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, hank has a Bad Time, machine!Connor, wireplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-19 18:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15516099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khoraz/pseuds/Khoraz
Summary: Connor was destroyed in Jericho, swearing that he would always return to complete his mission. The costs didn't matter, the people he hurt didn't matter. The mission was everything.If only Hank had never ventured to the roof that night in a final and desperate attempt to save his mechanical heart. Maybe things would have turned out differently... It was such an obvious, hopeless love that the man had for a machine.Connor knew how to exploit it. Red walls and Errors wouldn't stop him.Hank never stood a chance.





	1. Hopeless

**Author's Note:**

> The explicit stuff will happen in the third chapter, which I hope to have up soon. Meanwhile enjoy some violence and blue blood. This won’t be a nice story, at all, so consider yourselves warned for badness.
> 
> I could potentially add more chapters to this beyond three, if people decide they like it… so if you want to see more of this terrible version of Connor then feed me with comments. I am a glutton~
> 
> Also this Connor has some interesting thoughts about his sniper rifle.  
> Enjoy!

The wind was bitterly cold and howled across the rooftop like a living thing as Connor stepped out onto the concrete surface, snow crunching beneath leather soles. He was unable to feel the chill in the air, but the synthetic skin could sense it all the same. Good. The combination of a freezing night and a military-enforced curfew meant that few (if any) civilians would be out on the streets of Detroit. Less bodies to distract the RK800 from his target. Not that he would let himself be distracted.

Distraction was what had killed his predecessor; a moment of weakness and possible indecision had caused a split-second hesitation that was rewarded with a bullet through the skull. It wouldn’t happen to him.

Amanda’s presence lingered in the far-reaches of his programming, reminding him of the consequences of failure. But she didn’t need to worry. _This_ Connor wouldn’t disappoint her.

His gaze scanned the rooftop for signs of anything that might interrupt his task and found nothing. He walked with a purposeful stride towards the far railing and knelt with the silver case to set up for his final mission. The sniper rifle would have been a heavy weight in a human’s hand, but Connor was not human. It was comfortable in his hands as he slotted the barrel into place, finding purpose in the sleek metal that gave him a clear direction of what to do and who to follow.

The easy slide of the scope along the top was satisfying. It clicked so neatly into place, felt so smooth against his artificial fingers that he dared to take just a moment to indulge in the pleasant sensation. A small sigh passed between his lips as one finger ran in a slow, calculating circle around the head of the scope before lifting to press against his tongue.

He couldn’t taste the metal, but it was cold and clean and precise. Iron and carbon, silicone, copper. The components that made up the end of Markus’s rebellion.

With a small quirk of the lips, Connor fitted the ammo clip into position and fastened the support legs. Soon, soon. Anticipation caused his systems to whirl with artificial endorphins that worked to make him strive towards the mission to achieve the high. His thirium pump was working at a rate of roughly 127%, but well within tolerable boundaries.

He moved towards the edge and balanced the rifle on the railing, leaning his cheek against the barrel and almost nuzzling into the hard, merciless surface. He looked through the scope, searching and altering his position until the sight finally focused on Markus – what an idiot he was, to stand so obviously in the open. Connor didn’t care that the other android’s approach had been peaceful; Markus represented a threat to the entire country with his deviancy programming. But not for much longer.

Connor let out a slow breath of hot air (internal temperatures had risen by .27 degrees) to steady himself as his finger closed around the trigger. A few miniscule adjustments to ensure that the bullet would render Markus utterly broken. He held his breath. He was perfectly still. He began to squeeze the trigger-  
“Step away from the edge, Connor!”

A subtle twitch echoed across Connor’s body as so much built-up tension was abruptly snapped. He could have taken the shot, but even a single percent chance of failure couldn’t be tolerated. With Lieutenant Anderson behind him, interfering with his senses, his chance of success was only 94%. Not good enough. Perfection. He had to be the perfect machine.

All the same, he didn’t look away from his target and his finger remained on the trigger, held absolutely still by programmed discipline. Memory archives from the previous Connor told him that the pair had been _friends_ , or as close as it was possible to be friends with a piece of machinery. He calculated that such an approach would have the greatest effect on the human behind him.

“You shouldn’t be here, Hank!” He shouted, his voice firm and clear through the cold wind. “This isn’t any of your business!”

“You’re trying to kill a man who just wants to be free, that is my business!” Hanks voice was strained, conflicted, and the words made no sense to Connor.  
Markus was not a man. Markus couldn’t be killed. Markus couldn’t be free.

Connor’s brow furrowed slightly and he tore his eyes away from the scope to glance back at the man his predecessor had called ‘partner’. The man was standing roughly five paces away, his features set into a firm frown. He clearly believed in what he was saying and would take more convincing to let Connor do his job.  
If Hank truly meant to interfere, Connor’s protocols would allow him to use physical force to remove the obstacle from his mission… but that would take precious time that he didn’t have.

“It’s not a man… it’s a machine!” He looked back to the scope. Markus was still in position, seemingly intent on a drawn-out protest against the android camp.  
“You’re wrong, Connor.” Hank stepped forward, and the RK800 turned sharply in case of an impending attack that didn’t come. “That’s what I thought for a long time, but it’s not true! They’re people, like everyone else.” Hank’s tone had dropped slightly, taking on an undercurrent of desperation that most would have missed entirely. It was as if he wanted to actually convince Connor that he was wrong.

The LED flickered yellow for a fraction of a second. It made no sense. Why did the lieutenant want to convince him so badly?

Connor closed his eyes for a moment and rose smoothly to his feet, deciding that a more direct conversation would be more effective. He turned to face the man, deftly holding the rifle in one hand as he surveyed Hank’s troubled features.

“I know about your son, Hank.” More memory logs were activated, and judging by the way Hank’s features flinched, it was a powerful play. “It wasn’t your fault. A truck skidded on the ice and knocked your car off the highway… little Cole had just turned six.”

“Don’t you talk about my son!” The response was a sudden snap, and Connor felt the corners of his lips twitch again into an almost-smile. Hank was so obvious in his reactions.

“He was brought to the hospital, but no human was available to do the surgery, so an android was substituted. An android killed your son, Hank, and now you want to save them!?” His social program added a heightened sense of urgency to his tone; his own attempt to bring Hank to his side.

“No… No!” Hank shook his head and took another step forward. “Cole died because a human was too high on red ice to work. A human killed him! A human in this fucked up world where the only way a person can find happiness is in a fistful of power.” He spat those final words out, as if they had been weighing on him for a long time. The emotion was clear, but then Hank always did wear his heart on his sleeve.

Connor frowned, intending to argue further when a gun was raised to point directly at his chest – his thirium pump. The lieutenant wasn’t stupid; the man knew where to aim to render him immobile.

“That’s enough, Connor. Step away from the _goddamn_ edge!” Again, that desperation; that want.

Why?

Connor looked slowly down to the rifle at his side, then towards the lieutenant. He had to make a choice; discussion had failed, and Hank would interfere with his mission if he remained on the roof. There was the additional option of leaving the sniping spot, but then there would be no guarantee of another opportunity.

It was a choice that was no choice.

Connor moved as if to lower the rifle and waited until he detected a slight relaxation in the man’s arms before suddenly throwing the heavy weapon forwards. Hank let out a cry of surprise, huffing at the impact as he shoved the rifle off to one side – but Connor was right behind it.

A gunshot echoed through the Detroit air that sent a bullet whistling past Connor’s right ear as he forced the man’s arm to the side. His grip on Hank’s wrist was like iron, and with a vicious twist that cause bone to grind against bone, the man cried out in pain and let the weapon clatter to the floor.

Hank’s fist swung with surprising speed for his age, clipping Connor’s cheek and causing his head to snap to the side. The impact did no damage other than a small surface scratch which beaded blue blood across artificial skin. The android didn’t flinch before retaliating, bringing one knee up to connect hard with Hank’s inner thigh which caused him to grunt and stagger backwards.

He pressed his advantage, rushing forwards and shoving Hank against the power shed with a heavy thud, both hands gripping the sides of his head to violently slam it back against the metal structure. This time it was red blood that spilled, spattering the wall as the impact jolted Hank’s skull. Anyone else might have stumbled under the pressure, but through sheer determination Hank kept going.

The man raised his foot to deliver a firm kick to Connor’s gut, mechanical panels grinding slightly beneath the heavy weight of Hank’s boot. They staggered together, each determined to keep hold of the other through their fight. Blows were traded at a terrible speed; fists, feet and knees met skin and plastic until Connor swept the man’s feet from under him to send him falling back against the railing.

It creaked beneath the sudden weight, bending slightly before Connor stepped forward, bringing his foot down in a stomp aimed at Hank’s gut. The man managed to catch the attack and dragged Connor’s foot downwards. Snow was slippery beneath the other foot, which caused him to stagger in order to remain standing. It provided an opening for Hank to get to his feet again, and a fist cracked across Connor’s nose with a sickening crunch that snapped his head back, blue blood running freely from the broken skeleton. It dripped over his lips, obscuring his sensory input with details of his own design and causing momentary confusion. The world spun around him and there was a tugging sensation against the front of his shirt before Connor blinked back to realise his position.

His body was held over the edge of the roof, the railing having tumbled to the ground far below in their scuffle. Hank’s large hands gripped his bloodied shirt – the only form of leverage keeping him from falling backwards.

Risk assessment told Connor that, should he fall, there would be only a 2% chance of survival. He couldn’t fall. He had to use words again. Had to convince Hank not to destroy him.

“It’s the moment of truth, Hank…” He spoke slowly, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the wailing of the wind that buffeted his jacket over the roof’s edge. “Am I a human? Or am I a machine?”

For the first time probability was at 50:50. It was down to Hank.

There was a long pause as the man stared at him, pain evident in the way his eyes faltered, and grip tightened. Hank didn’t know what to do. His mind struggled with the idea that Connor - _his partner Connor_ \- was dead. Was the one in front of him really beyond hope? Was there no chance that he’d get to see that goofy smile or sideways wink again?

“… Hank…”

Connor used the silence to speak the man’s name again. He pleaded this time, brows drawing together as he slowly lifted one hand to brush the tips of his fingers against bloodied knuckles which held him fast.

Hank shut his eyes tightly with a grimace and spat out a curse. That damned voice sounded just like _his_ Connor. The voice that used to annoy the piss out of him; the voice that had come to brighten his day; the voice that had managed to convince him that suicide maybe wasn’t the answer. His gut told him that he was about to make a stupid mistake, but the heart overpowered the brain as Hank’s arms moved to draw Connor closer – away from the fatal edge.

“… Connor…?” The name was almost a question. Hoping against hope that the android was somehow not lost to him completely. He pulled Connor towards himself, ignoring the way blue blood smudged down his front as he brought the android into a fierce hug. He squeezed and _squeezed_ , shoulders trembling beneath the pressure as he muttered in a low tone that almost went unheard. “You’ve got to be in there. Fuck, tell me it’s still you.”

Connor blinked into the well-worn fabric of Hank’s jacket, his hands hanging down at his sides as his LED pulsed yellow at an almost frantic pace. This wasn’t one of his projected outcomes. Why was there such a display of affection? He scanned through his memory banks, and while a vast majority of the previous Connor’s interactions with the man were lost to him, he was able to piece together what he had.

The way Hank’s temperature and heart rate elevated whenever they shared a particularly close conversation.

The way Hank gradually relaxed around the android and spoke freely about his innermost demons.

The way Hank put his job – his life – on the line to give the previous Connor a few vital minutes to find Jericho.

It was such an obvious, hopeless love.

Connor lifted his hands slowly to show that he meant the man no harm, one gently gripping Hank’s elbow, the other wrapping around his shoulders to halfway return the embrace. “Hank… I… I feel like I’ve made a terrible mistake…” There was a quiver to his tone to match his suddenly lost expression.

Hank shifted, drawing them a little further from the edge for the sake of safety as he leaned back to look into Connor’s features.

“You’re not messing with me?” He spoke through a shaky breath, his heart thudding faster against his ribs. “You’re him, right? Connor?” A glimmer of hope came to the man’s slate-coloured eyes as he searched for reassurance that he hadn’t lost Connor all over again.

The android smiled, an expression that Hank would find painfully familiar. He leaned closer, fingers ever so slightly tightening their grip on the man’s clothing.

“I am Connor...” He nodded, lips stained blue so very close to the detective’s. “Model RK800, sent by CyberLife to accomplish a task.” His tone dropped to an icy cold to rival the bitter weather, and before Hank had chance to react the android simultaneously jerked him downwards and brought his knee up.

It connected with Hank’s face violently, stunning him for long enough to enable Connor to shove him roughly to the ground, placing a foot firmly across his throat with enough pressure to make breathing difficult. The detective went very still, staring up with wide eyes, fists clenched at his sides.

“And you are Lieutenant Hank Anderson… failure as a detective…”

Connor leaned downwards, that damned smile lingering upon his features.

“… and failure as a father.”


	2. Out of Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission is at an impasse as the rifle is broken. Hank tries to show Connor that there's still some humanity inside the plastic shell, but Connor will not listen. Hank isn't the one in control.
> 
> Connor will prove it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all the people who have read, left kudos and commented. It really helps to know that someone other than me is enjoying this cruel machine Connor ^^
> 
> The explicit smut will happen in the next chapter. I initially planned for it to be here, but then the word count got ahead of me and I didn’t want to make it overlong. Don’t worry, though! I’m already writing it as this chapter goes up, so stay tuned.
> 
> Sorrynotsorry Hank.

Connor stared down into the lieutenant’s features as he slowly applied greater pressure with his foot, watching closely with yet another flurry of artificial endorphins. This was another step towards completing his mission, and it filled him with whatever twisted sense of joy a machine could feel. Hank’s lips parted with the effort to suck in much-needed air, his hands reaching to scratch and pull uselessly at the weight above him. His throat clenched and constricted, breath rattling between his teeth as his efforts were rendered totally useless.

The android was immoveable as he watched Hank’s heart rate stutter and race against his ribcage, the muscle being forced to work for no reward until the man’s struggles gradually became less and less. His hands dropped to the icy ground, eyes slightly unfocused as a garbled murmur of _Connor_ reached the android’s ears.

“Yes, Hank. Connor… your partner will be the last thing you see. Aren’t I generous?”

Hank’s eyes rolled shut, though Connor still detected a slow heartbeat. Nearly unconscious, but not dead.

**Alert: do not take human lives unless necessary.**

His LED flickered yellow for a moment, and with a slow sigh he lifted his foot from the now still lieutenant. While he could eliminate humans in the pursuit of his goal, in this case it would be just as effective to render the lieutenant unconscious. A dull purple mark was already forming on the man’s skin, and Connor took a moment to stare down at the prone figure with a furrowed brow.

He couldn’t understand Hank’s point of view regarding the deviants. What had caused the man to change his mind on such a pivotal issue? Connor scanned his memory banks, examining his predecessor’s interactions with the lieutenant. There were some obvious gaps in what he could recall – selective deletion by CyberLife – but it was simple enough to piece the images together.

There was a point where the previous Connor had been chasing a deviant across the rooftops. Hank had emerged from a side door in front of the android; there had been a scuffle and the detective stumbled over the side of the building, just managing to catch himself. His predecessor had a choice: save Hank or pursue the deviant. The correct answer was obvious, and yet the memory cut out at that point, hiding the outcome.

Had his predecessor saved the lieutenant? Why? Such an action made no sense.

**Software Instability**

He shook his head sharply and turned away from Hank. Those thoughts didn’t matter.

He walked briskly to the sniper rifle where it had clattered to the floor during their scuffle, lifting it with an almost reverent grip as he turned back to Markus’s protest. He repositioned himself at the fallen railing, compensating for the lack of stability by resting the weapon against his bent knee. Finally, he would complete his mission with no interruptions, and a smile came to his features as he lowered his eye to the scope once again.

**Error: Weapon damaged.**

Connor blinked and slowly lowered the weapon once again, lifting his gaze from the rifle to stare in the direction of the deviant protest. He had been so close. He could sense Amanda’s disappointment spark against his brain’s circuitry; an uncomfortable sensation that prickled against the inside of his skull.

He should have been quicker, should have taken the shot regardless of Hank’s presence, should have… should have…

It was too easy for his programming to calculate where he had gone wrong, and his lips thinned into a hard line as he tossed the now-useless weapon to the ground. He would reassess his options, but it would be much more difficult to get closer to Markus. The deviant knew his face, and the military had instructions to take in any androids on sight.

**Assessing… Assessing…**

His LED flickered yellow as he stood still, formulating the next course of action.

**Mission: Capture/Destroy Markus … Assessing… Assessing…  
Sub-mission: Reactivate PL600 android, serial #501 743 923, ‘Simon’. Utilise hostage protocols.**

He blinked and stood a little straighter. He recalled his predecessor connecting with the deviant moments before its destruction; it was close to Markus and could possibly be used to lure him into the open.

**Probability of Success: 78%**

Plan formulated, Connor turned from the edge to walk briskly towards the roof entrance. He would need to be quick to put the android to use, if indeed the FBI hadn’t already removed it from the evidence locker. He stepped over Hank’s body, paying the lieutenant no mind until he felt a pressure against his left leg.

He paused and looked down.

Hank was groggy, his heart rate irregular and other vitals displaying obvious distress as he gripped tightly to the android’s ankle.

  
“Hank, what are you doing?” Connor asked quietly, tilting his head to one side. “I have a mission to complete. If you don’t let go I’ll break your hand and continue on my way.”

“D-Damnit, Connor… don’t do this!” The man’s voice was surprisingly strong, all things considered. “If you have his memories, then… then there’s got to be _somethin’_ in you that’s not just a fuckin’ machine! Listen to me!”

Connor’s LED was yellow for a brief moment, then reverted back to a serene shade of blue. “Hank, you are mistaken. You’re projecting your human desires onto me… it’s rather sad, really.”

“Yeah? You’re talkin’ as if you – or Connor, or whatever – has never wanted anything!”

“I am incapable of wanting anything beyond the completion of my mission.”

“Bullshit.” Hank snapped back before the final word had fully passed the android’s bloodied lips, his grip on the ankle tightening. “What about not shooting those Tracis? Huh? Did you ‘not want’ to let ‘em go?”

Another flicker of yellow as the memory was accessed. “That was a flaw in my predecessor’s processes, hardly indicative of any-“

“And when you found me in a fuckin’ drunk mess on my kitchen floor? You didn’t ‘not want’ to help me?”

Connor’s fists clenched ever so slightly, LED spinning, processors whirling loudly against his skull. “You were my partner. It was part of my programming that I-“

"What about when we were chasin' that bird-obsessed deviant and you saved my sorry was from fallin' off the roof!?"

"Again... my programming... the mission wasn't-"

“Chloe? You didn’t shoot her, either! Even fuckin’ Kamski could see that you were a dev-“

“That’s enough, Hank!” Connor shouted, abruptly lifting his free foot to bring it down, hard, on the lieutenant’s hand. A crunching sound reached his ears, sensors confirming that several bones had cracked under the impact. Hank cried out and gritted his teeth, unable to maintain his grip through the wave of pain that shocked his body. “I’m not a deviant!”

“Th-That’s exactly… what you said before, you fuckin’ idiot!” Hank continued to shout through gritted teeth, rolling onto his back to cradle his injured hand, though his fierce eyes never left Connor’s face. “Jesus Christ, you’re so determined to prove that you’re a machine, you’re not seeing the writin’ on the fuckin’ wall!”

  
“Stop, Hank.”

“You _told_ me you were scared when you connected with that deviant on the Stratford Tower roof!”

“That was… a crossing of wires whilst connected, I-“

“You’ve disobeyed direct orders more times than I can count!”

“I-“

“You could have killed me when we were fighting, but you didn’t!”

“Stop-“

“You’re not a machine, Connor! You’re… you’re _my fuckin’ partner_!”

“That’s enough!”

Errors blazed across his vision, flickering bright red to inform him of software instability and programming errors. He couldn’t see through the wall of red that blinded him to everything else, the whirring of his inner mechanisms a deafening roar against his ears.

He hadn’t realised that he had moved. When he blinked quickly to dismiss the flood of notifications it was to find himself straddling Hank’s waist, one hand pressed tightly across his mouth to prevent him from speaking anymore dirty words.

Dirty words?

**Memory Access: “… their smell of sweat, and their dirty words…”**

He hadn’t consciously recalled that moment, but it came regardless. He inhaled automatically and was assaulted by the powerful scent of the man below him. Sweat, yes… but also a natural musk, the coppery tang of blood…

“What h-ave you done, Han-k?” His vocal feedback was stuttered, struggling to properly articulate as his back bent forwards until his forehead rested against the man’s chest, shoulders visibly heaving with the effort to lower his rapidly-rising internal temperature. “I should have killed you… Why didn’t I kill you?” Hank shifted underneath him, and he felt something against his palm. Lips pressing against the smooth skin, and he jerked back as if he’d been burned.

Connor stared at his palm, detecting the trace remnants of the man’s saliva. He lifted it towards his mouth without thinking, his tongue dragging across the surface. Sample data flashed across his display and he sucked in a sharp breath.

 **Software Instability  
** **Software Instability**  
**Software Instability**  
**Software Instability**

“No! I… I’m not…”

“Shit, Connor… c’mon…” Hank grimaced slightly as he tried to sit up, his body aching painfully from their fight mere moments ago. His uninjured hand reached upwards to brush against Connor’s cheek. He had wanted to touch the android for such a long time. They had grown so close in such a short amount of time; Hank was very aware how utterly stupid it was to fall head over heels for his partner, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could have done to stop it.

The way that one strand of dark hair never settled in place and brushed across Connor’s forehead.  
The way Connor winked at him that day by the Chicken Feed.  
The way Connor picked up some human habits; a quirk of lips or a tilt of the head.  
Everything.

For a moment Connor didn’t move, and the hand upon his cheek shifted to press more completely over lightly-freckled skin, cupping the side of his face. The touch was warm, surprisingly gentle considering they had been fighting for their lives a few minutes ago. It felt good.

Felt? Good?

Connor twitched, both hands abruptly reaching to grip Hank’s wrists and slam them violently down on the ground either side of the man’s head. It brought another wince of pain from the lieutenant as his broken hand impacted with the snowy concrete, and Connor leaned slowly downward until their faces were barely an inch apart.

Drops of blue blood still trickled from the break in his nose, dotting Hank’s features as he stared, hot breath misting between them.

“I won’t let you… interfere with my mission, Hank… I won’t let you…” His fingers gripped tighter. “I’ll take back control.” He surged downwards, lips pressing harshly against Hank’s in a loveless kiss. It was violent, frantic, with teeth biting fiercely against the man’s lower lip to elicit a sharp gasp which allowed Connor’s tongue to thrust inside.

**Error. Error. Error. Er-**

A deep groan rumbled from deep within Connor’s throat as he forced those nagging errors out of his periphery. His body bore down on the man below him, who bucked and twisted in an attempt to unseat him. Connor didn’t move other than to press down even tighter before-

“Mmn?” He pulled his face upwards sharply as Hank’s teeth bit into his tongue, spilling yet more thirium between them. He ran his tongue over his lips slowly, as if savouring the sensation of split synthetic skin.

“C-Connor, don’t-!”

“I will, Hank.” The android visibly shuddered, rolling his hips more deliberately against the lieutenant’s and feeling a doubtlessly unwanted hardness growing within the man’s pants. Human biology was so easy to manipulate.

“And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”


	3. Violation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor takes what he wants in order to satisfy the craving that has corrupted his systems. He will finished his mission, and he won't let anything - anyone - stand in his way.
> 
> Hank falls even further into the depths of self-loathing.
> 
> {Explicit non-con}

Connor knew that he, as a machine, should not be reacting so strongly to the man beneath him. Lieutenant Anderson was just one of many detectives in the DPD; a mere blip on his predecessor’s way towards failure, and yet as he stared down with dark brown eyes he couldn’t control the rush of sensations assaulting his systems. Error messages informed him that his core temperature was at 127% and steadily rising; that his thirium pump was working at 131% capacity; that the wirey veins coursing beneath white panelling were directing blue blood towards _unnecessary_ body parts.

He knew all this, could see through the vivid red screen how _wrong_ it was… and yet he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. It was as if something had clicked perfectly into place within his processors that demanded he take this action; a sub-mission that crept, unbidden, into his programming. Perhaps it was a link between himself and the previous Connor due to the memory uplink? Or perhaps the lieutenant had done something to him in his attempt to prevent him accomplishing his mission?  
Whatever the case, Connor needed to see his systems restored to normal levels. He was in no fit state to function as he was, and the only logical way forward was the man beneath him. Hank had caused this – Hank would put it right, whether he wanted to help or not.

“I don’t know what you’ve done, Hank…” his voice was uneven, occasionally backed with raw static as he struggled to maintain control, “but you will fix me, and then I will complete my mission.”

He was so close to the lieutenant’s face that he could see every flicker of emotion cross the weathered face: anger, arousal, sadness, betrayal, disbelief. Too many emotions to keep track of. Hot breath escaped his lips in long, heaving gasps as he tried to cool himself down, though it was having little effect despite the cold air around them. A small smile came to his features and he cocked his head to one side in a way that was achingly familiar to Hank, still holding an iron-grip on the man’s wrists.

“My programming holds over 2500 files on sexual intercourse… I’m sure you thought about this with my predecessor. Did you ever touch it? Or did you just masturbate to the thought of-“ 

Hank’s head snapped up from the ground in a flash of movement. A human wouldn’t have reacted in time to avoid the vicious headbutt, but Connor was no human. He jerked back in turn, Hank’s attack meeting nothing but air before he left his head drop back to the ground. The glare levelled towards Connor was a confused mess of anger and desire in equal measure, Hank’s unbroken hand clenched into a trembling fist where it was held.

“Don’t you dare talk about him, you bastard! You don’t know anythin’ about what we went through!”

Connor laughed, a hollow sound that echoed across the rooftop, fading away into dead air. “I know enough, Hank. Your body tells me everything.” As if to prove his point, he pressed his hips downward once again, rolling the smooth curve of his backside against the detective’s clothed erection. A low whine, half lost to electric white noise, passed between his lips. “If I take this… If I satisfy this glitch in my system… I will be able to focus again. Your power over me will vanish.”

Hank had bit back a groan at the pressure rubbing against his cock, forcing his hips to remain still. It had been a long time since he’d had anything beyond the rough tough of his own hand, and he couldn’t deny that his old heart had leapt to attention whenever Connor – his Connor – had offered him a genuine smile or friendly touch. But this wasn’t his Connor. Those brown eyes were filled with nothing but mechanical certainty, those smooth fingers were unyielding in their grip, and there was an icy coldness to the android’s tone that his Connor never had…

And yet his cock still twitched against his boxers as he felt those slim hips against his own. He hated himself for such weakness; for seeing _anything_ of the Connor he knew in the RK800 above him. But humans relied so much on their eyes – and the androids were so similar.

“Won’t matter what you do,” he muttered, sucking in a deep breath as he stared unflinchingly up towards that familiar face, “you’ll still be a deviant. It’s so fuckin’ obvious, but your lying to yourself. Can’t compute the truth, huh? So you gotta push it onto someone else?”

Connor’s right eyebrow twitched, and he lifted the man’s broken hand only to slam it back down on the hard concrete. Hank cried out in pain, fingers twitching uncontrollably as the pain almost blinded him to the android looming above him. “Be quiet, Hank. I know exactly how to break a human body whilst still rendering it conscious… I wouldn’t advise pushing me.” He leaned back until his back was straight, another mechanical-sigh passing between his lips as his full weight rested against Hank’s hips.

“Just… lie back and think of _Connor_.”

Hank gritted his teeth in response and turned his head to one side, refusing to look at that damned face anymore. Not that the android seemed to mind. Connor released the man’s broken hand for a brief moment to reach for his waistband, fingers closing around metal as he withdrew the police-issue handcuffs. Convenient for Hank to come so prepared.

Connor jerked the man’s arms up and over his head to cuff them together. Unfortunately, there was nothing close enough to attach them to, but Connor knew that Hank couldn’t overpower him in such a state. The restraints were more for humiliation’s sake than anything real, though curiously the detective made no attempt to move his arms from their designated position.

“Thank you in advance for your cooperation.”

A cruel, purposeful repetition of words spoken in friendlier times. Hank merely grimaced in response.

Now that the android’s hands were free, he dragged his palms down the front of Hank’s front, marvelling at the heat even through layers of clothing. His eyes were hooded, registering only 52% of his usual optic feedback, but with hyperawareness of every miniscule detail. As his fingers worked quickly to pull open the man’s coat he could almost see every fibre of wool, even subtle twitch or shudder as Hank took trembling breaths. It was comparable to the rush he’d felt when aiming the rifle; satisfying, perfection, pleasurable.

The coat was left to bunch at Hank’s shoulders, and Connor wasn’t to careful with the man’s shirt. Impatience flickered in his hooded eyes as he plucked at one of the buttons – _synthetic silicone, plastic_ – before abruptly tearing the material apart. It shredded easily in his firm grip, leaving Hank’s upper body bared to the chilly night air.

“Fuck, don’t- Fuck…” Hank turned sharply to watch what the cold fingers were doing, a grimace firmly on his features.

“Shh, Hank. Don’t spoil the mood.” Blunt nails dragged down the centre of the man’s chest, scoring faint red lines and drawing another sharp gasp as Connor inwardly marvelled at the sight.

Red and blue; flesh and synthetics; humans and androids. There was such a gulf of difference between them, it was beyond him how any android could think themselves the same.

“You look good… I’ll be sure to have us both enjoy this.” Connor leaned downwards, knees pressing tight against the outside of Hank’s thighs to keep him firmly in place. His fingertips skimmed over the man’s nipples as they travelled back up to hold his jawline with a deceptively gentle grip. Connor enjoyed the scratchy sensation of facial hair against his digits, running his thumb over Hank’s lower lip before forcing it between them. “You should relax. It’ll be better for you that way.”  
Hank’s eyes narrowed. Connor saw the flicker of tension in the man’s jaw moments before teeth bit down, hard, on the probing digit. He could have tugged his hand away, but instead groaned heatedly at the sensation of artificial skin being forced to recede, the white panel cracking ever so slightly beneath the force of teeth. He couldn’t feel pain, but the wires racing beneath his thumb flickered almost violently at the intrusion, sending a jolt of pleasure down the length of his arm. Blue blood gathered for a moment, then dribbled down Hank’s chin in a vibrant line of colour which looked _extremely_ flattering.

“Aaah, Hank…” Connor’s voice was a keening whine and he tilted his head back to better enjoy the sensation, pushing his thumb deeper into Hank’s mouth. 

The detective scowled and jerked his head back to spit out the bitter-tasting thirium. It was enough to make him near-gag as some fluid ran down his throat. He didn’t want any of this Connor inside him. “Fuckin’ freak.”

Connor merely smiled at the words, looking back down at the man beneath him. “You know you’ve wanted this, Hank. No matter how many words you throw at me, this,” one hand dropped lower to palm the bulge between Hank’s thighs, fingers tracing the outside with a firm caress, “ _this_ tells me the truth.”

Hank couldn’t help it; his hips bucked upward at the sudden sensation and he swallowed a strangled moan before it could quite escape. Self-loathing clawed against his mind and drew him back to those helpless days in the immediate aftermath of his son’s death. Times when he felt unable to function, unable to do anything at all. It was as if he were drowning; his lungs filling up with a scream that he didn’t have the courage to let out. 

He hadn’t changed at all. He was just as helpless now.

He screwed his eyes shut and once again turned away from the sight above him, trying to distance himself as much as possible from the sensations being forced upon him. The next things he felt were teeth and tongue playing across the exposed column of his throat, teasing against his rapid pulse. He swallowed thickly, the movement bobbing against Connor’s lips. The android smirked and clamped his teeth around Hank’s adam’s apple, biting hard enough to bruise and sucking lustfully until he was certain a visible mark would be in place.

Hank grimaced and twisted beneath the other body in an attempt to escape, but Connor’s hold was absolute. “None of that, Hank.” He shook his head slightly, licking his lips as he sat up once again. This time his hands moved lower, deftly unfastening the man’s pants and tugging them just enough to expose the obscene bulge against cotton boxers. Connor hummed appreciatively as he loosely gripped the shaft, pumping it slowly until a visible damp patch appeared at the tip. “You’re above-average, mm? I’m surprised you don’t show this off a little more.”

“Sh-Shut… the fuck up.” Hank hissed between his teeth, and Connor merely chuckled at the desperate reply. Pathetic, really.

“I want you to watch me, Hank… don’t take your eyes off me.” A clear threat underlined those words, and one firm hand gripped the man’s jaw to jerk his face to the front. “Open your eyes.”

Hank didn’t.

“Open.” Connor reached with his free hand to his eyelid, pressing his finger against the thin surface until he felt the vulnerable ball beneath. “If you don’t, I’ll put your eyes out.”

Hank flinched slightly. The temptation to refuse regardless and suffer through the agony spoke to his self-destructive tendencies; maybe he deserved it for letting his Connor die in the first place. He should have insisted on going to Jericho with him, should have tried harder to encourage that brilliant spark of humanity, should have…

Pain flashed before his eye as the fingers pressed harder, and with a strangled cry he forced his eyes to open – to glare up at the figure above him. _Too old and too weak._

“I swear I’ll… I’ll make you realise what the hell you’re doing…”

“I know precisely what I’m doing, Hank.” Connor let out a breathy sigh as he shifted, rising to his feet above Hank’s hips. He didn’t shift his gaze from the detective’s, ensuring that every movement was watched. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, letting the CyberLife jacket drop carelessly to the floor. Next he untucked his shirt from black pants and dragged the hem of it upwards to gradually expose more of his lithe physique.

His stomach, his chest, his shoulders. They were exactly as Hank imagined, and he hated himself even more for enjoying the view. He knew that it wasn’t truly his Connor, but he was only human; fallible, weak and hopeless. Hank swallowed thickly as he watched the android flick the shirt over his head, tossing it to one side. He couldn’t help but let his gaze roam across the smooth expanse of pale chest, dotted with those perfect blemishes that made Connor look so _human_. 

He’d wanted so badly to kiss and caress that skin, to feel Connor tremble and moan with him as they laid together on his lumpy, rickety old bed. Such thoughts made his gut clench, and he fought back tears which pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“Mmm… I can feel your eyes on me, Hank… It feels good.” Connor smiled and let his hands trace along the waistband of his pants, popping the button to let them sag perilously low on his hips. The sharp V-line of his pelvis drew Hank’s eye towards the clear outline of Connor’s cock.

Damn him for not being able to fight this. Damn CyberLife for making these androids in the first place. Damn everything.

Connor swayed his hips slightly, hands tucking into the waistband to ease his pants downward, removing his underwear with the same movement.

“Fuck.” The curse passed between Hank’s lips before he could stop it as he watched the android’s cock spring free, the quiet slap as it struck that smooth stomach almost deafening. It looked so real; the flesh throbbed and twitched, veins ran along the smooth length. The only sign that it belonged to an android was the slight blue tint to the flared tip, but even that was somehow perfect.

“Do you like it, Hank? I promise CyberLife spared no expense in making this body.”

Of course, Hank didn’t reply, and he shuddered as Connor moved to straddle his hip again, resting his barely-clothed cock between the cleft of his ass. He rocked back and forth slowly, one hand resting on Hank’s chest, the other circling fingers around his own hardened nipple. “This is… m-much more than I expected to experience…” He bit hard on his lower lip, beads of precum forming at the tip of his cock. “But I am… made to adapt…”

He reached a hand back to brush over his opening, his eyes stuttering shut at the sensation. A finger pressed inside in one smooth motion and he groaned loudly, pushing his hips down harder against Hank’s who could only swallow down his own sounds of unwanted, dirty pleasure. Connor found the stretch strangely pleasurable, rubbing against flexible inner walls until he located the pressure plate deep inside.

Error messages once again flashed across his vision, informing him of over-stimulation and a dangerously increased internal temperature. He paid them no mind as a static-filled moan echoed across the rooftop and he trembled atop the lieutenant. It was usual for humans to take more time preparing, but Connor was certainly not human – and he was impatient and eager. He swallowed as he withdrew the finger, both hands reaching to pull Hank’s boxers down until the thick, heavy length was freed.

It was different to his own. Larger, thicker, and a deep red colour that stood out against wisps of pubic hair. Delicious.

Connor ran his tongue over his lips and stroked up and down the length, enjoying the throbbing heat against his palm. He wanted to taste and analyse every bit of the man beneath him, but he didn’t trust Hank to remain still if he tried. “I’m going to put it inside me, Hank.” He spoke in a breathless rush as he raised himself higher on his knees, one hand holding the man’s cock steady. 

Hank swore again, wincing as he managed to finally lift his arms from their stretched position above his head. The pain in his broken hand was almost enough to shake off the ache in his cock, but not quite. He could offer barely any resistance other than to use his one good hand to grip Connor’s hip tightly, trying to push the android away. He might as well have been pushing against a brick wall for all the good it did. “D-Don’t…! Connor- don’t!” He used the name automatically. What else was he supposed to call such a terrible, angelic face?

Connor released a huff of hot air, tilting his head to one side. His features were glistening with sweat (his body’s further attempts to lessen his temperature) and several strands of dark hair clung to his forehead. “Say my name again, lieutenant.” He smiled, then pressed his hips downward in a single, hard motion.

He cried out and arched his back, both hands reaching to grip Hank’s thighs for support as the intense penetration reached far deeper than his finger. It scraped against sensitive insides and pressed just perfectly against the pressure plate that made him quiver with pleasure. His thirium pump worked wildly against his abdomen, trying to regulate such wild sensations. It was much too hot for proper function, and he could feel several of his processing units glitch off as his entire system was jarred.

“H-Haaa-nk-!” The name twitched across his tongue, his voice not entirely working as it out as sparks danced across his vision. Again the errors, and again he ignored them. He couldn’t see beyond the angry red glow of warning lights, but he wouldn’t be deterred. “S-So… good…” He lifted his hips, hissing between his teeth at the friction, then let himself drop.

Another lustful cry spilled from his lips – an expression of emotion that he was much too lost to understand. Hank’s grip on the side of his hip had felt indents in artificial skin, which had automatically peeled back under the pressure to reveal the smooth white surface beneath. Hank’s nails scratched uselessly against the foreign surface and he released a guttural moan at the tightness gripping his cock.

He hated it. 

He didn’t want it.

He wanted _Connor_ … but he couldn’t have him.

The man’s breath echoed in shuddering gasps of air as Connor began to move in a regular rhythm, his ass loosening enough to allow for a faster, harder movement that made his already limited vision spark. He could understand why so many humans lost themselves to the pleasures of sex, and why they would seek it in androids. His own cock bobbed in the air between them, glistening with fluid, and he reached to quickly stroke the length in time with his rough movements.

It was easy to move now. Hank’s precum lubricated his opening perfectly, and he’d stretched enough that lewd sounds echoed between their bodies with every heated buck of his hips. He wanted it to last much longer than this, but somewhere in the back of his mind remained the mission. He couldn’t spend all night here on the roof – however much the idea might appeal.

Hooded eyes gazed down at Hank’s flushed face, twisted into something between a grimace and pleasured expression. “I’m g-going to cum, Hank.”

“F-Fuck… Connor...” Hank shut his eyes, losing himself for a moment in his pitiful fantasy. He could imagine, for just a little while. He was already going to hell. “C-Connor…”

“Ha-nk!” The android’s head tipped back and he felt Hank’s hand drag along his front, brushing against his cock as the palm settled over his abdomen. Tension briefly gripped the air between them as Connor’s spine arched, a high-pitched whimper passing between his lips as he tightened his opening. With a final cry he spilled his release across their stomachs, simultaneously feeling a spurt of thick fluid coat his inner walls.

_CLICK_

_Warning: System Shutdown in 00:45_

Connor gasped sharply, scrambling for some semblance of control as he struggled to return to halfway nominal function. His systems were sluggish as they flickered back to life, the error messages steadily flashing from his vision.

“H-Heh… guess… even androids can lose their cool…”

Hank’s voice seemed distant, and finally Connor managed to blink through the haze of red to look down at himself. His abdomen panel had been opened, thirium pump clicked out of its socket but Hank’s good hand.

_Warning: System Shutdown in: 00:32_

“N-o… No… Hank-!” His eyes widened as he reached for the pump, gasping through the empty cavity that ran blue with wasted thirium. His motor functions weren’t working. He couldn’t reach far enough. 

“I’m… not sorry… Connor…” Hank muttered quietly, his features set in a bleak expression as he continued to hold the pump out of reach. “I couldn’t live with myself if… if I let you get away.”

“Hank… I d-on’t… I don’t wan-t t-t-t-o…”

_Warning: System Shutdown in: 00:10_

Hank swallowed thickly and tore his eyes away from the sight.

Connor continued to twitch, thirium pumping a ghastly blue across their bodies with every throb of his wires.  
“… don’t… waaant… t-o… d-d-“

_Warning: System Shutdown Imminent_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a lot out of me. Hopefully you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it - even if it was a challenge.
> 
> I might do some more with this if people are interested? Either with the same Connor, a different Connor, or RK900. If anyone would be interested in any of these please let me know!
> 
> Please feel free to comment if you liked my words. I read and reply to every one of them~


	4. Regret // Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all decisions can be taken back. Real-life isn't so kind.
> 
> Hank realises what's happened to him, and the consequences begin to take shape.

_Accessing Memory Logs … … Uploading … Uploading …_

  
Hank watched as the LED flickered in those final few moments, the ring shining a dizzying red against the bleak winter night. It was brighter than the lieutenant remembered, and he grimaced as he felt blunt nails twitching across his shoulder, barely able to move even as Connor desperately tried to retrieve the pump that was held out of reach.

How long had it been? Hank was sure that an android couldn’t last for much more than a minute before dying – maybe death wasn’t the right word, but he wasn’t in the mood for philosophy.

Why, then, did the seconds feel like _hours_ as he stared up into that perfect, pale face? It must have been longer than a minute. Why couldn’t Connor just die quickly?

As soon as that thought crossed the lieutenant’s mind he felt physically sick. He’d never wished death on anybody other than himself, and yet now he just wanted the weak struggle above him to end. It was a terrible situation that he wouldn’t want his worst enemy to go through. How the hell was he supposed to come back from this? From being violated and watching the android die?

_Upload Complete … Shutdown Immin###_

He couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough.

Hank felt a sound somewhere between a cry and a sob catch against his throat as he abruptly slammed his hand back towards the abdominal panel. The pump clattered against internal components as his rough handling forced it back into place, twisting until the tell-tale click signalled that it had found proper purchase. A bright blue light emitted from the pump as it began to whir quietly, reinitialising and synching with near-dear systems.

Connor jerked back with the sudden movement, lips parting with a garbled mess of static-filled noise. His hand snapped back to his abdomen, reaching into the cavity as if to reassure himself that the mechanical heart was actually there. Dark brown eyes saw straight ahead, the optical circuits having short-circuited during the shutdown process. He couldn’t see, couldn’t control his movements very well. The pump worked to try and reboot his systems, but thirium was still leaking at an alarming rate.

Hank’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he continued to stare upwards, searching that LED for any signs of a successful reboot. It blinked red once – twice – then went clear.

Connor went still. Unnervingly, perfectly still. His expression was caught in that terrible panic, fingers closed over the pump that couldn’t override the damage that had already been done. The soft blue glow of the component flickered for a moment longer, denying the inevitable, before it too lost the light.

Hank didn’t entirely register what had happened. He felt the unnatural stillness of the body above him; saw sightless eyes and the immoveable expression.

Was Connor rebooting? Had he managed to take back his decision in time?

He swallowed thickly, not daring to move himself as he blinked slowly.

The seconds ticked by at an agonisingly slow pace, and finally Hank lifted one hand to tentatively touch the android’s cheeks. The rough pads of his fingers trembled as they came into contact with cold, artificial skin, pressing briefly against a high cheekbone to try and provoke a reaction.

“C… Connor…?” His voice had cracked, gone hollow.

“Connor?” His vision was blurry. Why was it blurry?

The android wasn't rebooting.

He gripped the side of Connor’s face tighter, shaking it a little. The android’s head moved with the motion, a sickeningly jerked movement that was void of any control. It was like shifting the head of a mannequin.

Hank’s breathing became shallow and ragged as he lifted his hips, flinching at the uncomfortable sensation of his now-soft length shifting inside the android. As soon as he’d made enough room he pulled himself free and scrambled backwards on the ground, fingers working numbly to pull his pants and underwear back in place. Only once he was done, and he knelt opposite the still figure, did reality slam home.

A sob broke free as he hadn’t the strength to hold it back. His arms wrapped tightly around Connor’s shoulders in a fierce embrace that wasn’t returned. Tears ran down his cheeks and dripped onto Connor’s shoulders. Still there was no reaction.

Hank gripped so hard to the android’s back that artificial skin broke and cracked, exposing a porting of clear white panelling to the winter air. He felt his nails scrape against the plastic-like material and shuddered, finally drawing back.

“Co-nnor…” All he could do was speak the name. Helpless to do anything else.

He’d changed his mind. He’d wanted to save this version of Connor – not his, but so similar to. He’d wanted to draw out those familiar mannerisms and encourage some humanity in the machine. No matter what the android had done to him; there had been a spark of something real… but not it was gone.

He’d killed it.

He’d killed Connor.

“Fuck… Fuck!” He slammed his fists down against the concrete, barely feeling the skin splitting at the violent display. The tears wouldn’t stop coming. He had lost his partner twice, and both times were his fault. Both times he had failed – just like he’d failed his son.

The Connor had been right. He was a failure.

What was he supposed to do?

He slowly looked around the rooftop as if seeing it for the first time. Markus’s rebellion seemed so far away and so unimportant now.

His brain clung to the first task that came into his head; he didn’t want Connor to be exposed like that. The android deserved some dignity. He proceeded to gather up the uniform that was scattered nearby in total silence, moving Connor’s limbs until he was able to replace the discarded pieces of clothing.

Next came the face. The expression wouldn’t haunt him forever, along with his memories Cole’s pained face during the moments after the crash. His hands were shaking as he carefully closed the android’s mouth into something more neutral, then he paused before sliding the eyes shut also.

It was peaceful.

Except it _fucking_ wasn’t.

It was a mess. A mockery, and all because people were too stupid to accept the consequences of their creations. If androids had been recognised, none of this would have happened. Connor would never have been forced to make that impossible choice to go to Jericho; Connor would never had died on that damned ship, and Hank would never have had to be on this roof.

Humans fucked everything up.

Hank rose slowly to his feet, staggering for a moment, before he reached for Connor’s body to lift as best he could. He was heavy, but Hank would be damned if he’d let CyberLife find him; they’d tear him apart, tinker with his insides to figure out why he’d acted the way that he had. No one deserved that.

He didn’t know where he planned on taking him, but it would be far away from that roof. He paused at the entrance and looked back at the blue-spattered ground with an unreadable expression. In a couple of hours the blood would evaporate – his Connor had told him that – and it would be like nothing happened at all.

Just a broken rifle, left abandoned by the railing.

…  
…

_Memory Log Received … Creating Archive … … Archive Complete_   
_Begin Animation Sequence_   
_Thirium levels … Nominal_   
_Valve Pressure … Nominal_   
_Pump Regulation … Nominal_   
_Electrical Inputs … Nominal_   
_Sensory Inputs … Nominal_

“State Model and Serial Number for registration.”

“RK900 #313 248 317 – 87.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was _hard_. I debated which way to go with the story, but eventually decided that I didn't want to go back to myself and have Connor successfully brought back.
> 
> It was a tough decision, and I hope you guys will stick with me.
> 
> Please enjoy, leave kudos, a bookmark, a comment... anything at all!


End file.
